


take your time, tiny hero

by relgeiz



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Baby Mercy, F/F, Fluff, Ft cute gays at the end, Light Angst, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-21 17:25:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8254174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relgeiz/pseuds/relgeiz
Summary: “The world won’t fall apart if you take a little break.”
“And what if it did?” her brows raise matter of factly despite how ridiculous such a statement actually was
“then you will have done me and the world proud, habibti.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> The usual language translations:
> 
> habibti: my love  
> liebling: darling

_Angela Ziegler has a thing for being praised._

She had been told from a young age that she was destined for greatness. She could remember it in the way her father’s eyes shone when he spoke of his daughter and her seemingly little achievements. His voice, fresh in her mind and so _alive_ when she sat atop his shoulders, a giggle so full of life and warmth it rivalled that of the morning sun.

_You will be magnificent, little star!_

She could remember the way the air had rushed past her hair tied high upon her head in uneven pigtails and the way her feet would tingle as he bounced her so effortlessly out to her mother who simply smiled at the pair over her little niche that would one-day blossom into bigger and better things. That was the moment she had decided: anything to feel that warm and fluttery feeling so new and unexplored was going to be done no matter the cost.

This was the reason she had spent tiresome hours honing her skills, curled up with her father’s medical textbooks and eyes scanning words too big for her to speak or spell but easy enough to understand. This is why she practiced sewing kitchen sponges together much to her mothers dismay, why she was able to label almost every bone in the human body and leave her teachers in awe by the time she was old enough to attend school. She was a genius, a prodigy in every sense of the word as she would pride herself in the fact she was able to recite things her classmates had never even _heard_ yet. All for that funny, little warm feeling that blossomed deep within her chest. It was incredible. _Magnificent._ Only to shuffle back home with a backpack that near dragged along the floor to continue her personal endeavour. Nothing could change this. _Nothing._

That is to say, she had thought as much.

They’d been talking about the crisis on TV lately, noticing her mother’s wavering glances and how unsettling evening meals had grown whenever the topic would rise and fall just as quickly as the words had split their way through the air. She could remember the day her father was called out, how he had scooped her into his arms when she’d heard the zipping of bags and the concerned voice of her mother breaking the evidently tense silence. She could remember the state of hysteria she’d been in when he said he had to leave, when he’d caressed her hair and held her so tightly despite her sobs and muffled words a mixture of _no’s_ and _please don’t_ s. But he’d held her face, softly wiped her tears and he’d smiled and promised everything would be okay and that she had to make herself proud over all others. She’d nodded. She’d watched him leave in the dead of night only to have herself forced to leave soon after.

Her grandmother was a lovely lady, but that was the first of many nights Angela Ziegler hadn’t slept, and it was a feeling she hadn’t _liked_ as it grew all too frequent and _god_ did she miss that warmth from days that didn't last an eternity.

 

* * *

 

Angela Ziegler, has a thing for being praised.

She knows it all too well now. None will ever quite realise how deep in her veins it runs, that every time they comment on the fine work she does or the next lot of perfect stitches it causes a familiar swell in her chests none other than _pride_ only radiating up and outwards until every inch of her feels positively alive. She can feel it during the intimacy with none other than her lover, when those lips scale her throat and graze at her skin before whispering how _proud_ she was and that Angela was so, _so good._ _That_ was a whole new level of heat she hadn’t quite prepared for but by _god_ did the mere thought send shivers up her thighs and down her spine. But it’s why she keeps going, keeps trying despite how dark and damaging things may seem because with hope comes faith, and with faith comes love and that love was no secret to anybody who knew her beyond the name.

Truthfully, Angela had done this for them. For her mother, for her father, she knew they would be proud. She _knew_ in every sense of the word were they still here she would be pulled into the tightest embrace followed by proud utterances just as they had all those years ago. Only now she had grown. She had grown, she had blossomed, become the best of the best and still would she fight and push and scream through any obstacle that would stand in her way and so help the gods if they had to withstand the wrath that came from such a petite, peaceful woman.

It’s here she’s pulled out of her deep train of thought by those familiar hands trailing idly up and along her arms, blonde tresses flicking as she snaps her head around to gaze at an expression filled with such adoration it almost makes her want to burst. Fareeha was perfect in little moments like this. She noticed when Angela would grow silent, when zealous research was replaced with tentative taps of her pen and any progress was halted. She can’t help but smile at that face as it peers over her shoulder, knowing full well Fareeha was double checking the doctor wasn’t suddenly entering a sleep induced meltdown. Angela steals a kiss, placing her own pale fingers against the others before drawing faint circles along scarred knuckles

“You grew quiet, ya amar.” She speaks gently, that accent making the blondes insides melt _just_ a little as she leans to brush their noses “And you claim _I_ worry too much.” She gasps as hands turn to arms and wind around her frame as weight clearly hadn’t crossed the soldiers mind, her body moved effortlessly from the seat at her desk to her bed “Fareeha I’m working! I’m in the middle of--” she’s silenced with lips against her own and fingers softly caressing along the back of her neck, unable to do anything but sigh dreamily before her lover pulls away “your work will be there tomorrow. As will your articles.”

She pouts, _frowns_ for lack of a better word but her protests do not last as long as usual, not when she feels Fareeha’s hands slowly running their way along her spine, pressing into tense muscles she’d so aggressively reassure weren’t actually there. But Fareeha knows. Fareeha is insistent and truthfully it was something the doctor could only stop and appreciate wholeheartedly in moments like this. A low drawl falls past her lips and once again she’s met with that glorious laugh, feeling the woman’s torso shift lower to press a gentle kiss against her cheek

“The world won’t fall apart if you take a little break.”

“And what if it did?” her brows raise matter of factly despite how ridiculous such a statement actually was

“then you will have done me and the world proud, habibti.”

And there it was. That little swell in her chest that made her lips curve into the radiant smile Fareeha absolutely adored. Angela hated how easy her defences crumbled because of that woman, joking or not, but the tiny glint in her eye only led her not to question it before the soldier rolls idly onto her back and shuffles up to rest against the pillows. She follows, nestling in under her arm and allows gentle fingers to rake her hair back and out of her face

“Do you truly believe that?” idly she glances to observe her lovers face. Angela knew her work had revolutionized the field of medicine and had been told many times prior but hearing it from Fareeha of all people was different. She didn’t hand out praise unless it was due, a little fact the doctor had grown to appreciate in their time spent together. Angela feels lips softly pressed against her forehead, against her cheek, trailing along her jaw with the faintest smirk lingering behind as the blonde feels it against her skin

“I mean every word, you should know that.” There’s a brief pause following a soft hold against her chin, angling it up “But right now _you_ are going to take a break. No buts.” Fareeha is greeted with a faint grumble and a sigh that only indicates the doctor was hopefully going to comply, stroking her back gently until the familiar weight sags against her torso and she clutches her softly for the no doubt _minimal_ sleep Dr. Ziegler always managed to function on.

“ _You always make me proud.”_


End file.
